


Wine Wednesday

by spideysmjs



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Michelle Jones has a Muscle Kink, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/pseuds/spideysmjs
Summary: Michelle bites the inside of her cheek, nerves bubbling at the pit of her gut knowing that for the first time since they’ve turned 21, Ned wouldn’t be joining their weekly wine nights.The reason Ned spontaneously dipped from the plans yesterday, Michelle doesn’t know.But she has a feeling.It's Wednesday, my dudes.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 153





	Wine Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spidermanhomecomeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidermanhomecomeme/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Glo! I appreciate you more than words can ever know.
> 
> (Yes, I know it's Saturday, but Glo loves Vines, so).

Michelle reads the labels of various reds, leaning in and squinting as she examines the alcohol percentage, the fancy titles, and the years despite knowing that she’ll grab two bottles of Stella Rosa because it’s the most affordable version of wine for two broke college students. 

Then, it strikes her that she hasn’t seen Peter in five minutes after tasking him with the duty of finding cheese, crackers, and other snacks that match with their choice of alcohol for the night. 

She bites the inside of her cheek, nerves bubbling at the pit of her gut knowing that for the first time since they’ve turned 21, Ned wouldn’t be joining their weekly wine nights. 

The reason Ned spontaneously dipped from the plans yesterday, Michelle doesn’t know. 

But she has a feeling. 

In a sudden movement, she hears the squeaky wheels of a shopping cart zoom into the aisle, Michelle looking over her shoulder to see Peter, one foot on the cart and the other pushing against the ground as if he’s riding a scooter. She rolls her eyes at him, the delicate, fuzzy feeling in her stomach only multiplying when she spots the crinkle in his eyes as he laughs at himself.

“You’re so embarrassing,” she says as Peter uses the heel of his foot to stop the cart, only for him to lose balance, using Michelle’s arm as leverage to stop him from completely falling. “God, Parker, you’re lucky I have quick reflexes.”

Peter’s boyish laughter makes Michelle’s heart skip a beat as she watches him finding his footing against the linoleum flooring. “Maybe you can take over my job, then.”

“I’d definitely do a hell of a better job keeping it a secret than you.” 

“Come on, that’s not fair, MJ. I’m great at keeping secrets.” Michelle quirks her brow at him, and he tenses, only softening when he says, “You’re just super smart and awesome and that’s how you found out.”

“Mm,” Michelle attempts to coolly brush off his compliment, though it makes her face feel warm while simultaneously feeling foolishly childish for having a crush the size of New York on Peter. She carefully places the Stella Rosa in the cart, next to Peter’s selection of salami and gouda cheese.

She takes control of the cart after explaining that she’s over Peter’s chaotic antics, Peter ruffling the curls on the top of her hair. “Come on, Em, you know I make your trips to the grocery store more fun.”

“If that’s what you want me to tell you, Parker.”

He snorts again, his hand lightly pressed on top of her shoulder as they wait in line to check out their items. “One day, all of your jokes are going to make me run away from you. I’m keeping count.”

“Running away at your big age?” she asks, both of them moving up the line after the cashier beckons them to the register. “Maybe I’ll let you run away.”

“No you wouldn’t,” he sticks his tongue out. 

She really wouldn’t. 

The cashier chuckles as they continue to bicker, a sudden silence washing over Michelle, feeling as if her life is a little too exposed to a stranger scanning their groceries. Peter follows suit, changing the conversation to ask the cashier how their day is going – always going out of the way to be kind to customer service employees. 

A smile curls at the corner of her lip as she listens to Peter go on a tangent, explaining that they both have Very Important Midterms for summer courses next week, and tonight’s their last hurrah before hitting the library. 

If the cashier compliments how cute of a couple they are, and Michelle sees the top of Peter’s ears turn pink when he says, “thanks,” then she must be dreaming.

Neither of them says anything about the matter as they hop onto the subway, letting the noise of wheels on train tracks carry a conversation for them, Michelle focusing on controlling her heart rate because she knows damn well Peter’s spider-senses can tell when she’s nervous. The train is filled with elders and pregnant women, both of them rushing to the back, opting to stand on their short commute. 

Peter holds the brown bag of Stella close to his chest, his head bobbing up and down as if there’s music in his head, a look of contentment painted on his face. He glances at Michelle, catching her eyes just before she can look away. Instead of feeling caught, the grin of Peter’s face makes her feel welcomed. So she smiles back.

Halfway to their fifth and final stop to Michelle’s apartment, Peter leans his head on her shoulder. “I like this.”

“Your heavy head on my shoulder?” she deadpans. He laughs, looking down as he shakes his head. Michelle witnesses a hint of nervousness from the way he lifts his head and runs his hand through his hair. 

“Grocery shopping with you. It’s fun.”

She bites her lip from smiling, turning her face away to the window just for a beat, where Peter can’t read her expression, before answering, “Of course it’s fun. It’s me.”

“You’re right.” Peter drops his head back on her shoulder. One more stop and she can shake off whatever the hell she’s feeling, and her fear of being alone with Peter on Wine Wednesday spreading throughout her body, Michelle inhaling and exhaling intensely hoping Peter doesn’t notice. 

But the thing is, Peter notices everything about her. 

And she notices everything about him. 

His hand smooths down to the small of her back, comforting her in a quick motion. “It’s okay, we’re almost home, and we won’t have to be on a crowded train.

“Yeah,” she breathes, softening to his familiar touch. “Right.”

The crowd. _That’s_ what’s making her nervous.

As if Michelle didn’t forget that she and Peter aren’t the only ones on the train.

When they finally get to their stop, the two of them wade through the commuters that have yet to make it to their destination, Michelle following Peter as he weaves through the people with ease, the same way he moves through life as if he doesn’t wake up with a hundred new challenges every day. 

She wonders every day if Peter actually ever worries about anything.

She shakes her head at herself as they reach the lobby elevator, knowing Peter’s worried every day of his life because he’s Spider-Man.

But Michelle means, like normal life things.

Does Peter have time to think about normal life things in the same way she does?

Does Peter think about her the same way she thinks about him?

“After you,” he says, snapping Michelle out of her ridiculous pool of thoughts when the elevator slides open. 

Peter doesn’t think about her–how could he? He’s too busy.

It’s nearing sunset when Michelle unlocks the shotty door to her cheap apartment, the only redeeming quality is the wide window that reveals the pinks and purples of a warm summer night. Automatically, she shucks the boots off her feet and walks over to the window, taking in the sky, feeling calm as Peter puts the groceries on her small dining table. 

He makes himself at home, dropping himself on her one love-sized sofa and kicking up his feet on her coffee table. 

Something about the sky makes her calm down, forgetting how nervous she had been from hearing the cashier call them a couple. When she turns to Peter, he’s smiling at her.

“What?” she asks.

Peter blinks, then shifts his eyes to the floor. “Nothing. Sunsets are nice.”

“Yeah,” she pulls her lips back. The nerves come back when Peter relaxes into the couch, arms making its way to the back of his head, his biceps flexed like nobody’s business. 

If Michelle licks her lips subconsciously, and Peter’s smirks at her, then she must be dreaming.

She swallows. “So–so do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Sure–yeah,” Peter stutters. Is he nervous, too?

No, he’s just… he’s just Peter–always like that. Right?

“I’ll get the wine glasses,” Michelle says, running away quickly to her kitchen. She leans against the cupboard, letting out the breath that she’s been holding since her eyes began to trace the outlines of Peter’s muscles. 

It is absolutely not fair that Peter Parker’s _muscles_ have muscles. 

Michelle could sue him for making her constantly wonder what’s under the shirt, and now being alone with him, with her silly little feelings and _wine_ of all things, this is going to be a rough night.

She takes a few more breaths, letting herself sink to the floor to gather her own thoughts and make a game plan–a list of precautions she can take so her heart rate can slow down for once when she’s around Peter. Her face feels warm, and she’s wondering if she’ll be sweating by the time she takes a sip of wine, cursing her landlord for not fixing her air conditioner.

“Em,” Peter shouts from the living room. “You good?”

“Yeah,” she yells, but her voice cracks. Dammit. “I couldn’t find the wine glasses for a sec.”

“Are they not in the dishwasher where you keep all your fancier dishes?”

She grins. They are there. She’s just stalling. 

When Michelle makes her way back with the wine glasses, Peter tilts his head in curiosity. She asks, “What?”

“The air conditioner still broken?”

“Yeah,” she answers, only now noticing the beads of sweat forming at the edges of her face. 

This whole thing is a disaster.

Yet, Peter looks normal – not even sweating. His hands are placed on the couch, curled into fists.

“MJ?” 

She looks up and away from his hands. “Hm?”

“You forgot the wine.”

“Oh,” she says, settling down on the couch instead of walking back to the table to actually _get_ the wine. 

“It’s okay,” he laughs as he gets up, his hand brushing against her bare shoulder again as he offers, “I’ll get it.”

She takes a deep breath again, leaning into the cushions with what feels like a new feeling of embarrassment, her heart beating so fast she swears she has to make up an entirely new word to define what Michelle’s feeling right now.

There’s a constant buzzing, the couch shaking a touch as she looks for the source of vibration. Peter’s phone. She forces herself to tunnel vision to the TV, browsing through the selection of cheesy Netflix originals and already-watched murder documentaries. 

But the phone keeps buzzing – not a call but several messages, Michelle can guess. 

If she takes a quick glance at the contact, sees that it’s Ned sending a slew of eggplant emojis, then she must be dreaming.

Peter comes back and she looks away, not even trying to be slick as she gestures to his still-buzzing phone saying, “You’re popular now?”

“It’s just Ned,” he shakes his head, popping open the wine bottle and pouring a generous amount to both of their glasses. “And _ouch._ ”

“I was gonna say–having more friends means having to bail on more people.” He hands her a glass, and she thanks him before adding, “And I thought Ned was busy.”

“Double _ouch,”_ he feigns a hurt face, Michelle noting that Peter completely ignores her inquiry about their friend. 

“It’s just the truth,” she shrugs, deflecting from her own emotions by another brutally honest statement. 

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he tries, raising his glass to clink it with hers. 

“Wouldn’t want anything else, Pete.” 

Both of them quickly down their first glass. 

Michelle from ten minutes ago was absolutely right. Her body is immensely warmer with one full drink in her body, the liquids sloshing in her stomach as she shifts herself on the couch making sure there’s a bit of space between the two of them. 

Peter picks some random comedy. Typically, she has the first choice on what to watch–both Peter and Ned relenting because they agree she has the best taste in media–but she tossed the remote to Peter’s lap, too buzzed and nervous to select their entertainment of the night.

Plus, watching Peter laughing at the dumbest one-liners is satisfying enough. 

She doesn’t really want to pay attention to anything else. 

Three glasses of wine in, and she feels Peter’s hovering arm from the back of the couch sink lower, making its way to wrap around Michelle’s body to pull her closer.

His phone continues to buzz.

She watches him glance at it once in a while, sometimes scoffing and sometimes chuckling. But he doesn’t ever respond back. His arm is still snug around Michelle, but her body is incredibly tense, not wanting to forget the precautions that she needs to take before doing something stupid like trying to kiss him.

Oh, but Michelle really wants to kiss him. She blames the feeling on the wine, and not the crush she’s been harboring on her best friend for months now.

“Do you not like the movie?” he asks, arm slipping away from holding her while Michelle’s heart simultaneously cracks from no longer feeling his touch. He turns to face her, searching answers in her face. 

She blinks. “No–no. It’s fine.”

“You seem distracted,” he pouts. God, he’s so–so _Peter._

“I’m not distracted–”

“You’re a little tense.”

“I just–”

“We can change the movie.”

“No it’s–”

“We don’t have to watch the movie,” he adds, his suggestions and rambling oozing in. “We can just drink wine and eat salami. We can play video games. Or you can just read or something. I’m sorry I have horrible taste in movies. You can pick a new one, or one for next time, or for the rest of our lives you ca–”

“Peter,” she interrupts him.

“Sorry,” he smiles, a shy quirk of the lip. 

“Are _you_ okay?” she jokes. His phone buzzes. “Is _Ned_ okay? Why does he keep messaging you? Do you need to go and Spider-Man him into safety?”

He laughs at that, and her heart swells. His hand travels to hers, and squeezes it. “No, no Spider-Manning needed right now.”

The wine, from her stomach to her brain, comes out of her mouth with, “Is it getting hot in here?”

“Well, your AC is broken.”

“Yeah,” she answers, a deep breath once again. “Is Ned okay? You seem distracted, too.”

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“Why is he texting you so much?” she raises her eyebrow, playing detective. Peter freezes, eyes wide. 

“Just checking up on us,” he answers. 

“Why?” she inches closer, doing her best to sound casual as she says, “We’re not in any danger or anything. I feel safe with you.”

Peter’s eyes soften. He moves closer. His fingers intertwine with hers.

His free hand presses a quick touch on the top of her nose. “I feel safe, too.”

“I hope you do,” she adds. “You’re a superhero.”

“Yeah, but you make me feel a lot safer,” he smiles.

If their faces are mere inches apart, and Michelle’s legs make their way on top of Peter’s lap, then she must be dreaming.

The phone buzzes again. Michelle sighs, chuckling as she says, “Tell Ned to stop texting you.”

“I should,” he leans his head back on the cushion of the couch in frustration. Michelle snaps out of her trance, letting her legs slip away, immediately regretting the ounce of confidence that zapped through her like lightning. 

“Sorry,” she says, “I shouldn’t have–”

“No,” Peter says, grabbing his phone and sending a quick message and tossing it back on the couch. “It’s okay.”

“It’s, you know, wine makes me–”

“Yeah, you’ve told me before.”

“I have?” her eyes widen in fear.

“Yup,” he pops his lips. “That time we went downstairs during wine night and you were flirting with the bodega guy.”

“Oh,” she sucks in her lips, disappointed at herself, curling her legs and pressing them against her body like a ball on the couch. “I’m–I’m not _flirting_.”

“Okay,” Peter says, facing her again. His phone isn’t buzzing anymore. “You’re not.”

“I’m not.”

“You just said that, Em," he teases.

“I know,” she says. His hands travel to her arms, the sweat of their skin making her feel electric. The movie keeps playing, her mind not bothering to understand the plot, especially when Peter’s hands are roaming her body.

It’s undiscovered territory. They’ve always been touchy.

But not like this.

“Your heart has been racing all day,” he says, biting his lips as her legs fall from her chest, her body letting loose. “That’s–um–that’s what’s distracting me.”

Damn that spider thing.

“Oh, let me just stop it then,” she snorts, yet her nerves have finally made their last explosion because her entire body feels like jello when she allows herself to soften to Peter’s touch. “Why is it distracting you?”

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” he returns, eyebrows raised and eyes squinting.

When did Peter Parker become such a little shit?

“I asked first.”

“Technically, I pointed it out first,” he says. His hand is pressed softly against the fabric of her sundress. Her eyes are locked onto his hand, so much so that she could burn a hole with her glaring.

“Technically, I asked about Ned and you ignored me before the movie started, so.”

“Okay,” his hand flies to the air when he puts his arms up, relenting. “I give up. Let’s finish the movie. Or did you want to pick something else? I wasn’t sure what choice we ended up–”

And suddenly, with the only confidence she’s ever brought herself to have when it comes to her best friend, she interrupts him and says, “Peter?” 

He grins like he’s onto something. She lifts herself from the couch as he asks, “What?”

Her legs fall on either side of his lap, Michelle pressing down softly on his already strained jeans, face inches away from his. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Yet, he continues to joke, smirking at her as he says, “The movie right?”

If Michelle starts grinding down on his lap as revenge for being a little shit, and she feels a warm breath escape Peter’s mouth and travel against her skin, she must be dreaming.

“MJ,” he whispers against her chest. 

“Peter,” she echoes. 

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a long time,” he confesses, his hands traveling from the small of her back down to her ass. 

“Kiss me now,” she dares him, heat rising in between her legs from his confession. 

And Peter listens, pulling her close to him, their lips pressed against each other for the first time. 

It feels like it should have happened long ago, like gravity had mischievous plans to figure out a way to push them together the same way it holds people to the ground. The way Peter kisses Michelle makes her feel like she’s at the center of the universe.

She doesn’t stop moving her hips against his lap, rubbing herself up and down his thigh for friction, feeling her arousal deepen as his tongue slips into her mouth with a caution that she battles with want.

Her dress hikes up to her waist when fingers sneak into the waistband of her underwear, fingers tracing along the lace, grazing her sweaty skin. He slips his tongue out, moving his mouth to pepper open-mouth kisses along her jaw, Michelle extending her neck and leading him to the place where her neck and shoulder meet.

Michelle sighs in reverie, Peter bucking his hips upward, working his entire body to please her. She says, “Let’s go to my room.”

Peter blushes, as if they haven’t been pressed against each other for half an hour, making out and letting go of all the nerves they (both, apparently) had towards tonight. He wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her up with one quick motion. Michelle wraps her legs around him, feeling his muscles flex against her body, her head a spinning spiral of thoughts.

He takes both of them into her bedroom. 

She’s about to have sex with her best friend.

Oh, God. 

Her body tenses when Peter lays her down, soft and slow. Her eyes freeze when she watches Peter hastily slip out of his shirt, revealing the chiseled abs that she’s always known were there – the same abs she would catch sight of when he’d pull his hoodie off and his shirt would cling along with it for a beat.

But now he’s in front of her, voluntarily bare. 

And, _damn,_ that spider thing.

He pauses his movements, tilting his head. “You okay? We don’t have to…”

She feels herself melt into the edge of her mattress. “I’m okay. I’m just taking all of this in. In a good way.”

Peter smiles, a sheepish thing. “You know I really like you.”

“I really like you, too,” she pulls a tight-lipped grin.

The nerves disappear. It’s just the two of them, the sky’s blue light bright and seeping through the curtains of her window like a spotlight. Her heart races, but in a way that feels different, in a way that feels like this is the moment she’s been waiting for since the moment she realized she had feelings for Peter. 

“Your heart,” he says.

“I know,” she says. “It’s you.”

She sits herself up, pushing herself to the headboard, watching Peter unbutton his pants and slipping out of the fabric before crawling onto the bed and hovering over her. 

He gulps. “I–I don’t… I don’t have a lot of–”

“Me neither,” she reassures him. “Only–only a few times.”

“Okay,” he says. “Do you have condoms?”

“In my drawer,” she says, rolling over to reach for the very unused stash. She snags one condom from the pack, and flashes it in front of Peter’s face, handing it to him. He stares at it and then meets her gaze.

“Uh,” he lets out. “Can we–can I–”

“Spit it out, Parker,” she teases, eyebrows raising.

He places the condom next to Michelle. “Can I taste you?”

Oh. Oh. Okay. Yes. Yes, he can.

She nods, a little too excited, but Peter beams at her answer and kisses her deeply, and somehow this time more magical than the first, Michelle thinking that maybe with each kiss their want for each other will grow – grow into something deeper than a crush. 

Michelle tables that thought for later, when Peter’s lips aren’t sinking down, pressing kisses through the fabric of her dress, lowering his head down until he’s in between her legs. She pulls her dress up, revealing her underwear again. He eyes it with focus, and Michelle watches in awe as he carefully places a kiss against her damp center. 

She shivers with want, with a desire for more than just Peter’s breath against her heat, closing her eyes and waiting rather impatiently. 

He looks up at her again, a permanent blush raised on his face. “I don’t know if I’m any good at this.”

“I’ll help you,” she says as she uses her legs to encourage Peter, pushing him forward. He pulls down the lace, revealing her skin. She feels vulnerable, bare around him, but comfortable. 

Peter Parker does not need help.

Because, just as he weaves his way through crowded stations and chats it up casually with strangers, he eats Michelle out like he was born to do it. With ease. With determination. With a tongue circling around the nub of her center so naturally, Michelle wonders if she’ll ever remember a time where his mouth has never ravished her so carefully.

She whimpers as he laps his tongue up and down her heat, beckoning more wetness as she bucks her hips and grips the sheets, her knuckles whitening with how tight she’s grasping the bed for leverage. He persists, one hand grabbing hers and leading it to his hair, motioning for Michelle to tug at it. 

When she does, he groans, the vibration against her making her tremble, making her pull his hair tighter. He slips his hand away from the top of his head and as she continues to mess with the curls, one finger starts to probe her center while he works her clit with grace.

He slips his finger inside her, meeting no resistance. She feels herself quivering as he builds her up, curling his digit in a spot that makes her breath hitch, moaning his name.

“Peter,” she pants, demanding, “More.”

He complies, adding another finger, speeding his pace as he moves in and out of her. His mouth stops working her as he lifts his head up and says, “You sound so sexy when you say my name like that, Em.”

She has no control over her words, only begging for Peter to please her harder, faster, and deeper. He listens, as he always does, the sound of his fingers moving in and out of her slickness turning Michelle on even more, wrapping her legs around Peter’s neck.

“I want you inside me, Parker."

“MJ,” he whines, eyes closing as he continues speeding his ministrations between her legs. “I want to make you come first.”

“Make me come while you’re inside me,” she pants, demanding.

“I won’t last long,” he confesses, drilling his fingers into her cunt, putting his mouth back to work as he moves his tongue in a circular motion against her wetness. 

From her arousal building up since they were in the living room, from listening to Peter groan filthy words, from his fingers curling against a spot inside her that makes her legs shake around her, Michelle’s climax washes over her, coming undone from the way Peter keeps going. 

She bucks her hips upward and deeper into his mouth, moving up and down in the same rhythm that Peter’s fingers fill inside her.

Michelle relaxes back onto the mattress, the cotton of her dress sticking to her sweaty skin, the warmth in her body no longer caused by the lack of air conditioning or the alcohol in her stomach, but from the way Peter smiles at her after she comes – his eyes melting into hers as he pulls his boxers down, revealing himself. 

She sits up, shimmying out of her sundress in an awkward motion, making Peter giggle, the sweet sound of his laughter making her heart pound in awe and adoration of her best friend. 

And then, they’re both fully naked in front of each other for the first time. 

“You ready?” he asks, making sure.

“I am,” she smiles, laying back. He brings his body above her, both arms on either side of her, flexing. She doesn’t even try to take her eyes off the way Peter’s muscles flex while he tries to balance himself.

Her hand makes its way to her center, wetting herself with her slickness before wrapping around Peter and stroking him gently. He shivers at her touch, the sound of his groans encouraging her to pump faster. He says, “Let me put on a condom.”

He lifts himself up, balancing on his knees as he traps Michelle’s body in between his legs. She watches him in a rush motion, ripping the foil and tossing it to the floor, promising in a hushed whisper to clean it up after. 

After rolling the condom on, he sinks back down, kissing her on the lips as she carefully leads him inside her. And once he bottoms out, they both sigh in pleasure, Michelle feeling him fill her up in a way she’s never experienced before.

“Wow,” he says. “Em, I’m not going to last long. You feel so good.”

“It’s okay,” she kisses him on the lips, then lifts her face to kiss his nose. “Show me what you got, Parker.” 

He pulls out, then slams into her quickly, and she can’t help but gasp in pleasure. He continues this motion, only picking up his thrusts when she asks him to go harder. 

Their foreheads touch, the beads of Peter’s sweat falling on her face as he pumps himself into her fast, her legs spreading wider, providing Peter with more access to angle his body in a different way, hitting the spot he had previously met with his fingers. 

The way Peter tends to her body is delicate but rough all at once like in the time it took for her to come, he’d already studied the way her body worked. 

She knows she won’t come again, but the pleasure of Peter inside her gives her goosebumps, his exasperated grunts turning her on, the choir of their bodies slamming against each other and their breathy moans filling the air – a harmony more beautiful than any song she’s ever heard.

When Peter comes, shaking as she clenches around him during his climax, his eyes shut with true pleasure, she _knows_ this is a reality. 

And this reality means more than any other thing Michelle’s ever dreamt of. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to scream with me on [Tumblr](http://spideysmjs.tumblr.com/%22).


End file.
